


Memories of Red

by Scribbles97



Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Armistice Day, Remembrance Day, november 11th
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-11
Updated: 2016-11-11
Packaged: 2018-08-30 08:36:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8526238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scribbles97/pseuds/Scribbles97
Summary: Once a year, the day comes around to remember those that fought for the freedom of others. Once a year, they take a moment to remember their friends.





	

His first memory of the red paper flowers was one with his family. It had been a little under than a year after the Global Conflict had resolved, a little under a year since he had arrived home and promised that he would never leave again. They had been invited to a base, all of the services in the same place for ease of the families like theirs… the families whose members had been scattered across the globe not knowing where the others were, or if they were okay. 

 

They had each taken a poppy, pinning it to their coats before they joined the crowd around the memorial. Some had stepped back, nodding their gratitude to those in uniform. Others had stopped them, thanking them for what they had done. All of them strangers.

He had never really understood why they had thanked him. They had just followed orders given to them, believing that what they had been doing was right. 

 

Tears had shone in his father’s eyes as the minister had spoken, commending all those that had been involved not only in that conflict, but the wars before as well. A solid lump had threatened to choke him as his aunt took one hand, and one of his brothers took the other. 

 

*

The same brother walked ahead of him as the wind whipped around them, sending the gold leaves through the air in a flurry as he dug his hands deeper into his coat pockets. A single day never seemed enough though, two minutes barely long enough to think of all the lives lost over so many years. 

 

He paused at a wall, painted with the red and white flowers of remembrance that everyone around him seemed to be wearing. The red for the remembrance, the white for peace. 

 

“Scott?” 

His fingers brushed the paint as he sighed and looked to his brother, “I’m coming,” He patted his brother’s shoulder, reaching out to straighten the stem of his white poppy, “Did you find Penelope?”

“No,” Gordon sighed as they began to walk towards the cenotaph, “She said something about going to get something, I was busy thinking about…” He trailed off with a shrug, reminding Scott of the attacks that had gone on since the conflict and of the friends his brother had lost on that very day, not so many years ago. 

 

They walked in silence, joining the crowd around the memorial. Neither needed to say anything, they both knew where their thoughts lay as they came to a halt. A calming silence settled over the crowd, it sounded like even the cars and planes had stopped for the service giving the whole city a brooding silence as the wreaths were laid.

 

With the first strike of the clock, one hand found another, gripping tight as they straightened to attention. Both sucked in a breath as they raised their chins, remembering the friends they had served with, those that hadn’t come home and those whose lives had changed. Remembering their family that had served, their parents and godparents that had insisted they stayed out of harm's way and looked after their siblings. Remembering those that they could have saved had they have had the equipment they had later gained. 

 

Both remained silent as the fire sounded, ending the two minutes that never seemed long enough. Even as the crowd began to shift and move, the pair still stood knowing that not even a lifetime could be long enough to remember it all. 

 

It was only when Gordon shivered, did Scott look down, his thoughts broken.

“We should go and find Penny,” He sighed, wiping the cold streak on his cheek, “How about we wait in that cafe she likes?”

Gordon gave a single firm nod, not sure his voice wouldn’t betray him as he forced a smile. 

As they turned, a gust of wind swept into them, ruffling the leaves at their feet as two more people flanked them. Scott smiled as a strong arm wrapped around his shoulder, and another rested on top of his arm around Gordon.

The baritone voice was soft but clear as he spoke, “And at the going down of the sun, and in the morning, we will remember them.”

**Author's Note:**

> I got thinking a few days ago about if there'd still be remembrance services in 2060. Then I realised, if there was a Global Conflict it may be the case that "Poppy Day" is more of a world wide remembrance day.


End file.
